


The Nursery

by WardenRoot



Series: Baby Bump [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Pregnant!Ava, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenRoot/pseuds/WardenRoot
Summary: What happens when baby Laurel's nursery has to be painted





	The Nursery

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Starling83 for betaing this <3

“No!” Sara exclaims, practically pushing Ava out of the room that is to be turned into the nursery. “Paint and pregnant people don’t mix well.”

“I want to help!” Ava protests, taking a peek inside the room. The blue paint has had the lid taken off and the new brushes are lying on a wooden plank right next to it, but no paint has been put on the walls yet.

“You just don’t trust me to do it alone.” Sara raises an eyebrow at her and crosses her arms, waiting for Ava’s reply.

“I trust you!” Ava says. And she does, there is no person on Earth she trusts more than Sara, but that does not quell the anxiety that has settled in her stomach. When Sara just keeps looking at her expectantly, Ava follows it with, “Have you ever painted a room before?”

The question seems to give Sara pause. Her arms fall from her chest and her brows draw together as she tries to think. “...No,” she finally answers, casting her gaze onto the ground. “But I’ve lived on a ship for most of my adult life! And the League doesn’t exactly ask you which color you want your room to be.” Sara has turned defensive now and her little defiant pout will never cease to be the most adorable thing Ava can think of. One of them, anyway, but in her defense, most everything Sara does is adorable.

“Have you?” Sara asks, turning the question around on her.

Her immediate instinct is to say yes, when she was sixteen her parents allowed her to choose a color for her room as long as she promised to help paint it. But she learned long ago to not trust her first instinct when it comes to things like this and upon considering it further, she comes to the conclusion that the only place she lived before getting this house with Sara was her apartment that she never painted.

“No,” she sighs. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“I know, babe,” Sara says, taking half a step closer so she can lean up and peck Ava’s lips. “And it will be,  _ everything  _ will be, because we’ll be doing this together.” Sara gently presses the palm of her hand to Ava’s stomach and all of Ava’s anxieties dissipate, at least for the moment.

Ava pulls her into an embrace and closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath that is filled with the smell of Sara’s hair and fresh paint. She imagines the room fully finished, the walls covered with the color of the sky and the roof painted with stars. Closets and drawers filled with tiny clothes and toys. The white crib they had bought fully constructed and complete with a small baby girl lying inside it.

She does not realize she is crying until they pull apart and Sara’s hand is on her cheek, her thumb drying away the tears.

“Everything good?” Sara asks, a hint of worry in those blue eyes. Her hand presses firmer against Ava’s stomach and Ava uses the touch to ground herself.

“Everything is amazing,” she replies, leaning down to give Sara a longer kiss than they shared earlier.

“Good,” Sara sighs as she takes a step back and looks around in the room. “How about you sit with the window fully open while I paint the opposite wall?”

Ava takes a second to think it over. It would mean she would get to keep an eye on what happens. She would also be close to Sara which, while she hadn’t mentioned it when Sara asked, might have been one of the reasons she was so determined not to let Sara paint alone. And, logically, she knows that paint fumes are bad to breathe in and something she should very much try to avoid with a life growing inside of her.

“Deal,” she says, looking around for a place to sit only to realize they have not brought any furniture into the room yet.

“Wait here,” Sara orders, squeezing her belly before disappearing out the door.

Ava smiles after her before walking over to the big window in the room. It has a view of the small garden along with the forest that hides behind it. An image of their daughter running around down there, playing in the dirt, climbing the trees, having a picnic out in the sun… The possibilities are endless and Ava only hopes that whatever she finds herself doing, their daughter will be happy.

Sara grunting pulls her out of her thoughts. She turns around to see her carrying the armchair they keep  _ downstairs _ . 

“Sara!” she chastises, running over to help her.

“I’m fine,” Sara says and Ava can hear her rolling her eyes as Sara pushes past her. “There!” she says when the chair is on the ground right next to the window. “Your seat is ready.” She does a small bow as she turns to face Ava again and Ava cannot hold back a laugh.

“I love you,” she says softly as she reaches out to cup Sara’s face with her hands.

“I love you,” Sara responds, gently grabbing one of Ava’s wrists so she can drag the hand to her lips and press a kiss to her palm. “Now, it’s painting time,” she declares, looking determinedly at the walls.

Ava looks over Sara’s work from her chair as she takes a sip of her water. She loves their daughter more than anything but the moment she is born, Ava is going to drink  _ so much _ coffee.

The wall opposite Ava is half-covered with paint. If you ask Ava, at the moment she would say it looks more like the wall is stained blue than painted. In most places it doesn’t come close to reaching the ceiling — Sara had rolled her eyes when Ava joked about her height, asking if she was sure she did not need any help. There are spaces between the lines of blue that are still as white as they found the room and as the first layer of paint starts to dry, it becomes painfully clear that they will need multiple layers.

Still, just from the small amount of paint that has been used, Ava can see a clear image in her mind about how the room will look when it is done and the image fills her heart with joy.

She draws her eyes away from the wall when Sara puts down her paintbrush to pull her sweater over her head. Even after all this time, Ava is still taken by how perfectly stunning she is. The muscles in her back flex as she stretches her arms into the air, with a black sports bra being the only thing currently covering her torso.

Ava spots a small, familiar scar on the back of Sara’s shoulder, which leads her eyes to search out all the other scars Ava knows by heart. It’s not the full force of what Sara’s scars should be — the scars from the worst part of her life are nowhere to be seen after she was resurrected. Still, Ava knows the location of all of them after Sara taught her where they were one night.

The scars now left on Sara are more recent injuries, wounds deep enough to scar but that Sara, for one reason or another, did not bother to get Gideon to heal.

“I thought you were going to keep an eye on the wall?” Sara pipes up, throwing a knowing smirk over her shoulder when Ava startles.

“I am,” she says, clearing her throat as she forces her eyes over to the wall, looking a little less stained and more like an actual layer of paint.

“Sure you were,” Sara says, cocking an eyebrow at her as she puts her paintbrush down.

Ava shakes her head as Sara advances towards the chair. Ava raises a questioning eyebrow at her but does not complain when Sara settles onto her lap and puts her hands behind Ava’s neck. There is a spot of blue paint on Sara’s nose that Ava cannot help herself from kissing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be painting?” she asks, throwing a look at the unfinished wall.

“The paint needs to settle,” Sara shrugs before rubbing the tip of their noses together.

“You haven’t even painted the whole wall.” Ava slides her arms around Sara’s body, trying to keep her in place despite her words.

“Who’s the painter here?” Sara asks, sounding way too cocky for someone who first started painting that day.

At the end of the day, when the walls are fully painted, it looks every bit like the sky is covering them and not just staining them. And it all looks absolutely perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> You find me on tumblr [@wardenroot](https://wardenroot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
